


Chasing Pavements

by hallelujahfunkiez



Category: Hetalia - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Angst, Brothers, Character Death, Eventual Smut, Hetalia Countries Using Human Names, Historical Hetalia, Human & Country Names Used (Hetalia), M/M, Multi, No Incest, Out of Character, Pirates, Sad, Semi-Public Sex, Strangers to Lovers, Violence, ill add more later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:02:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29092467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hallelujahfunkiez/pseuds/hallelujahfunkiez
Summary: the countries are pirates. i have very little forethought to this fanfiction i just wanted to create something Hetalia related since im getting back into it !! i hope you like it :")
Relationships: America/Japan (Hetalia), England/France (Hetalia)
Kudos: 4





	Chasing Pavements

l)Arthur Kirkland used to be a great person. 

Back during the days before he'd deciding to become a sailor, he was living a humble, quiet life in the comfort of his very own country, once called Great Britain. His early days consisted of tea parties with nearby countries, learning to master the magic he possessed, and his favorite of all, being the big brother to the tiny person known as Alfred. 

It was known how much Arthur adored playing caretaker to such a small human. His neighbor and lifelong enemy, France knew it all too well. Anytime he'd make insults to his brothering skills he was met with a tirade of insults and slaps. 

"Big Broooottthhheerrrrr-!!" Came the cry of the tiny nation-to-be. Arthur rose from his study, smiling at the sound of the name. 

"In here, America. What is it?" The young nation smiled up at the older, reaching up to him to be held. England obliged, lifting him to his hip.

"I'm starving, Dude! Can you hurry up and make me lunch?" Arthur scoffed a bit at his rudeness.

"That's no way to speak to your superiors, you know. If you want to be a nation someday, you have to learn your manners." Alfred laughed obnoxiously.

"No way! I'll be the least proper nation there EVER was!" He wiggled himself free of Arthur's hold, running back down the hallway to the dining room. England sighed. 

"He better not mean that."

That was many, many years ago. He hadn't seen the nation ever since he claimed his independence from the British Empire years earlier. To say he was bitter was barely scraping the barrel of the emotions he felt. He was heartbroken. And heartache had turned him completely vile.

"Monsieur Britain? Are you alright?" The familiar sound of France's voice snapped him back to reality.

"Huh? I'm fine. Now sod off and get this ship back on course." France cocked a brow at him.

"Euh? Where are we going? You said you'd return me to my ship now. I told you what you wanted to know." England growled, ever impatient. 

"Yeah, and I think you're lying-" He drew his sword, pointing it to France's face. France looked nervous.

"...I told you I don't know where America is. No idea. I don't even know if he has a ship." England swept his leg harshly behind France's, sending him to the ground painfully. He now had the blade pressed to France's chest.

"TELL ME. I KNOW YOU ARE ALLIES WITH HIM." France chuckled nervously.

"Welll...He's sending men to me to help me bring freedom to my people at home. Or, at least that's what he promised he'd do if I helped him fight you." He snickered, ever the asshole. England eased up, still entirely pissed off.

"Fine. Then we wait on the coast. When he arrives, I'm putting an end to this silly defiance he thinks he's doing." France stood, dusting himself off.

"He's a young adult, Angleterre. Give him a chance to plant his roots in his own country. He'll come back and make amends with you if you give him time-" 

England shot France a look of pure hatred, causing him to lose track of what he was saying.

"...Desolé, Monsieur." 

England stood at the wheel, seeming more stoic. 

"Do you really think he hates me? Was I THAT bad of a brother to him?" France thought for awhile.

"...Non. I don't think he hates you. I just think he is too big of a person to be owned by someone else. I insist that you let him make his own choices, ouais?" England tossed a bottle at France's head, making it painfully obvious that he disagreed.

"We will reach the port the same time he will. I'm putting a stop to this tomorrow, whether you still support me or not." 


End file.
